


Nightshade (won't you take me away)

by but the story is this (orphan_account)



Series: Don't be afraid (the shadows know me) [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Alpha Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drow, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, M/M, Not Really Character Death, Omega Jaskier | Dandilion, except the baby is 60 years old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22270099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/but%20the%20story%20is%20this
Summary: Geralt was well aware of two cloaked figures watching him grieve for his lost bard. He did not know who they were or what they wanted. He did not particularly care at the moment. He slipped into the saddle and turned Roach towards the road. Jaskier had always wanted to go to the coast but had never made it there. Geralt would take him there now and lay him to rest on the bluffs.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Don't be afraid (the shadows know me) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603036
Comments: 54
Kudos: 537





	1. It's not a race to the end

**Author's Note:**

> So this idea has been swirling around in my head for a couple of days now. Please enjoy!

Geralt rode hard, hoping to reach the small, nameless village in time. How could he have been so stupid, pushing away his Omega like that. He may have never actually claimed Jaskier but the intent had been there. Jaskier was _his_. Always and forever.

“Faster Roach,” he urged and she leapt into a faster pace. He had to get there, had to save him. He had the tools to make the needed medicine in his bag, mushrooms from a loch where nymphs played, daisies that bloomed where the snow never melted, and clay from the bottom of a well where lovers met. Everything needed to heal the sickness that had claimed his omega. When he reached the village, he didn’t stop until he reached the hovel where he had left Jaskier. The woman who had been watching his Omega was waiting for him on the stoop, a soft, somber look on her face.

“I’m sorry Witcher,” she said as he dismounted. Geralt pushed past her and found Jaskier’s body laying still in the bed.

“No, no, no,” he sobbed. Tears leaking from his eyes. He collapsed onto his knees beside the bed, hands cupping his beloved’s face. It was almost as if he was just sleeping, as if Geralt’s touch would wake him and the Omega would smile at him and start to speak of a wonderful dream he had been having.

* * *

On a hill overlooking the village stood two people. They were both clad in dark cloaks that hid everything but their faces.

“Was it really necessary to fake your own death?” The one on the left asked. She was a woman of great beauty with long raven hair braided down her back and dark piercing eyes. The one on the right let out a sigh. They had had this conversation many times in the last few weeks while the construct had laid in the bed slowly succumbing to the Wasting Sickness.

“He would have never stopped looking for me. I knew this was inevitable as soon as I realized how attached we were to each other,” Jaskier said. He had a fond smile on his face. He loved his Witcher but he couldn’t have the man dogging after them. Following all hints of his Jaskier across the continent. It was still a cruel trick to play, Jaskier had timed the sickness just right so that Geralt would always come too late to save him. A marvelous bit of spell work, one that Jaskier was pleased to claim the creation of. He had done this many times before, when the fact that he wasn’t aging became just a little to obvious. Saying he had elf’s blood in him brought up scorn and distrust and Jaskier had had enough of that when his kind were still free to walk among men as themselves. Still, doing it to Geralt left a bitter taste in his mouth and sucked away all the joy he had in knowing his trick had worked.

He loved Geralt like he had loved no other. Like he had thought he was incapable of loving anyone. True and pure and fully. With his whole being and then some.

“It’s a pity then, that he didn’t claim you. You wouldn’t have ever pulled this stunt if he had,” the woman said as if she was able to read his feelings. Knowing her she was and it made Jaskier frown.

“We’re Drow, Eskalia. Beings of the Chaos, he would have struck me down if my glamours had ever fallen,” he snapped. It was a fear he had held for so long. So many of their kind had been killed for simply existing. Jaskier knew he would be met with scorn if anyone other than Eskalia learned of his love for a Witcher. Geralt’s kind had been one of the top exterminators for the Drow, slaughtering entire villages down to the smallest child.

But that was long before Geralt’s time, back close to three centuries ago now. Jaskier’s parent’s parents had been children during that time but the fear and hatred for Witchers still ran deep.

“Maybe, we’ll never know though. Our identities that we so carefully shaped have been discarded now that our service is required,” Eskalia said, the image of the woman shifting as if it was a reflection in a pond. Jaskier sighed. She was right, they would never know how Geralt would have reacted. Geralt thought Jaskier was dead and Jaskier planned on keeping it that way. Perhaps one day, far into the future, he would assume a new role in Geralt’s life with a new face and name. It was a hope he clung to, that he would be able to slip back into the Witcher’s life someday.

“May the Gods have mercy on the fallen,” he murmured as Geralt carried the construct’s form that was now wrapped in a white sheet out of the hovel and lay it reverently across Roach’s back.

“May the Gods have mercy on the fallen,” she echoed.

* * *

Geralt was well aware of two cloaked figures watching him grieve for his lost bard. He did not know who they were or what they wanted. He did not particularly care at the moment. He slipped into the saddle and turned Roach towards the road. Jaskier had always wanted to go to the coast but had never made it there. Geralt would take him there now and lay him to rest on the bluffs.


	2. But I'll miss you young and free (For a dance round the memory tree)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was originally supposed to be a series of oneshots but, eh, I'm too lazy to write it like that. So this chapter takes place about five years after the first one.

Geralt moved through the market keeping an eye on the shadowy figure that had been following him for the past month. No matter what traps he set, the figure never sprung them. He wasn’t sure who it was or even if it was a person. When he tried to approach it, it would disappear only to return a few hours later like nothing had changed.

“Witcher!” A voice called and Geralt turned towards it. Two men in ragged guard uniforms approached him

“Duke Lyone requests your presence. It’s a matter of great importance,” one of the guards said nervously. Geralt nodded and patted his leg, summoning Tick to his side. The black and white Pitbull had only been a puppy when he had found him three years before. Now he was a strong companion, not afraid of any of the monsters Geralt faced but also listening to Geralt’s commands when a monster was too dangerous for the dog. The two guards led Geralt out of the town and down the road a bit. There Geralt found a carriage overturned, the duke himself was being treated by an older woman whom the Witcher assumed was a witch healer.

“Try not to use that arm too much for a few weeks and it will be as good as new,” the older woman instructed as she stood

“Thank you,” the duke said before he turned to Geralt.

“Witcher, some precious cargo was stolen from me, I need you to get it back,” Duke Lyone demanded. Geralt raised an eyebrow at the demand. He wasn’t a soldier, he was a Witcher, and getting stolen cargo was a bit beneath his paygrade. Still, the Duke would have to be a fool to demand his presence for something as simple as silk clothes or gemstones.

“What was the cargo?” Geralt asked, his voice betraying no emotion. The Duke sniffed

“A Drow girl, she would look no older than seven or eight but she carries strong magic. A group of bandits carried her off not but two hours ago,” he said. Geralt raised an eyebrow. Drow were nearly unheard of. There would be rumors here and there, a Drow stealing a child from their bed in the dead of night or a group of Drow attacking a caravan but the stories were just rumors.

“How much?” Geralt asked.

“Five hundred coin if she’s alive when you bring her back. Half that if she has already expired,” the Duke supplied. He must have wanted the girl bad for that much money. It made Geralt wonder what was so precious about a girl who was little more than a myth.

“Done,” he said before turning towards town. He collected Roach from the stables where he had housed her and turned back in the direction he had come. Depending on the number of bandits it might be a lengthy fight but they would be fairly easy to track.

* * *

Jaskier watched as Geralt fought the bandits. Neri, the girl he was supposed to return to Lyone was sitting quietly beside a tree watching the carnage with wide, frightened eyes. Jaskier was about to move in and claim the girl before Geralt could touch her when Neri spoke

“You smell like Prince Jaskier? Do you know him?” she asked innocently. Both Geralt and Jaskier froze at her words. Jaskier had never meant for the ‘scent’ of his protective magic to be that strong. Most creatures, human, elf, or otherwise, couldn’t smell Drow magic.

“Prince Jaskier?” Geralt rumbled and Neri nodded.

“He’s a Shadowwalker and a hero. Five years ago, he surfaced with his sister, Princess Eskalia, to push back those who live in the Underdark,” Neri said as Geralt helped her to her feet.

“What is the ‘Underdark’?” Geralt asked and Jaskier closed his eyes as memories of the horror of the Underdark flashed before them. He never wanted to see the twisted things that lived there, mutated creatures that had once been elves but now were nothing more than mindless, flesh eating things.

“It’s a place far below the ground. It’s said that Drow were the first inhabitants but we left when the Chaos monsters became too vicious and bloodthirsty for us to be able to survive down there. Prince Jaskier and Princess Eskalia have the sworn duty to seal off any entrances that might lead to the Underdark.” Neri said cheerfully. Geralt seemed both stunned and confused by the young Drow’s friendliness. He helped her onto Roach and started to lead the horse back towards Lyone. Jaskier Shadowstepped so that he would beat the Witcher to the humans. They were not expecting him and he slaughtered them quickly before taking up a seat on the edge of the overturned carriage. He was in the process of cleaning his knives when Geralt and Neri arrived. Geralt stopped Roach a few meters away and simply stared.

“Who are you?” Geralt asked and Jaskier cocked his head. He knew even with Geralt’s enhances he was not able to see any of Jaskier’s features beyond shifting shadows.

“Hand over the girl,” Jaskier said, disguising his voice into a hissing rattle. He watched as Geralt’s grip on the reins tightened.

“Who are you?” He asked again, his voice more demanding. Jaskier slid his knife back into it’s sheath.

“I am only the one who was sent to protect you,” he said, his voice unaltered. Neri squirmed on Roach’s back

“Did Prince Jaskier send you?” she asked excitedly. Jaskier let his lips quirk at that thought.

“I suppose I he did. I volunteered. Not many wanted to guard a Witcher,” he said with a small chuckle

“I don’t need guarding,” Geralt snapped and Jaskier chuckled.

“No, but one does not disobey the prince. Not if you want to keep your head,” Jaskier said.

“Wicked,” Neri gasped. She seemed to think this was one big game and based on her age, she probably hadn’t been exposed to any of the real dangers of the world. Jaskier wondered how she had fallen into the Duke’s hands. They were usually so careful with children of her age as they were not yet able to keep a glamor up for extended periods of time.

“What do I do with the girl now that you’ve killed the man paying for her?” Geralt asked and Jaskier sighed.

“I know a family in a village north of here that will be able to take her in. I’ll pay you the five hundred gold to take her there,” Jaskier said. Geralt narrowed his eyes.

“Fine, I want to be paid now though,” he said and Jaskier bowed. He plucked the coin purse that the Duke had already set aside for the Witcher and tossed it over. Geralt caught it

“Using a dead man’s money?” he asked, Jaskier could hear amusement in his voice.

“He doesn’t need it,” Jaskier shot back. He moved to stand not too far from the Witcher

“Shall we be off then?” he asked and Geralt grunted.

“You’re coming with us?” Neri asked, a slight tremble in her voice. Jaskier nodded

“I will not be leaving my post,” he said. Geralt grumbled about how a guard dog wasn’t necessary but he had already started leading them northward and Jaskier felt himself smile. It was nice to be by his Witcher’s side, even if the Witcher didn’t know who he was.


	3. I lost a friend somewhere along in the bitterness

The strange male Drow baffled Geralt. He would not lower his hood so Geralt couldn’t get a good look at him but his scent was almost relaxed whenever Geralt was close to him. Geralt had figured out that he was an unclaimed Omega but other than that the Drow’s base scent always seemed to be shifting. Sometimes he smelt like fallen leaves and wet stone but other times his scent was as sweet as warm vanilla and cinnamon.

The three of them were currently camped for the night, a small fire glowing and Neri fast asleep tucked into the male Drow’s side. Neither of the adults were asleep though, Geralt because he didn’t trust the Drow not to slit his throat and the Drow most likely for similar reasons.

“Tell me about your Jaskier, Witcher?” The Drow said startling Geralt. His voice was soft and smooth. Geralt grunted

“He was a bard, stupid and idiotic, and completely infuriating. I would rescue him from one danger and he would run headfirst into another. He sounds nothing like your prince even though they share a name,” Geralt grunted, stirring the embers with a stick. Memories of his bard washed across his mind, both good and bad. He wished he could see the man again, say how much he was sorry. It had only been a few months after they had parted on the mountain that Jaskier had fallen ill. Another year before he had been made aware of it. He had tried to save his bard, by the gods how he had tried. He would give anything, _anything_ for just one more night with the Omega. To show him how much he had cared, what the bard had meant to him, everything he couldn’t say with words. By the time Geralt had reached Jaskier he had wilted so much he was never lucid enough to even know Geralt had been beside him, begging to ghosts only he could see for peace that he could not find.

“Tell me about him,” The Drow prompted.

“He was an Omega, like you, except he was soft. Kind. He never let my harsh words get to him, never let my unwelcoming behavior bother him. He was a light in the darkness that I didn’t realize I needed,” Geralt grunted. The Drow hummed

“What about your Prince Jaskier, what is he like?” Geralt asked and the Drow chuckled

“Jaskier isn’t the prince’s name, not his real one at least. Names hold power, Jaskier is a character in a tale of old. A wolf if I remember correctly. It’s likely our two Jaskier’s plucked it out of the same story. As for what he’s like? He’s kind when he can be but brutal when betrayed. He’s a expert magician, well known for his curses among our kind. He and the princess are the best Shadowwalkers we have which is why it’s their job to hunt anything that comes to the surface world from the Underdark,” the Drow said.

“And what should I call you? If names have power,” Geralt prodded. The Drow hummed but didn’t answer. Geralt hadn’t expected him to, he had asked for a name since encountering him three days ago and had yet to receive one.

“Vesper, call me Vesper,” the Drow said. Geralt’s head snapped up

“Vesper?” he asked and the Drow seemed to nod

“It’s a good of a name as any. I can just imagine what you refer to me as in your head,” Vesper said sounding amused

“Hm,” Geralt grunted and Vesper seemed to relax. Geralt tossed his stick into the fire

“You should go to sleep, we’ve got another two days of travel before we reach your village,” he said moving towards his bedroll.

“Very kind of you to worry but I’ll be fine,” Vesper said and Geralt grunted. He laid down and rolled so that he was facing away from the fire and the two Drow. As sleep claimed him, he thought he heard Vesper start to hum a familiar tune.

* * *

It was close to dawn when Jaskier was roused from his light sleep. Something was crawling closer to their camp. Something that sent shivers down his spine and left a rotten taste on the back of his throat.

A Reaver.

Jaskier carefully extracted himself from Neri’s grasp and pulled his daggers out of their sheaths. The enchanted silver blades glowed with a faint blue light.

Definitely a creature from the Underdark.

Geralt was awake, his own silver sword in his hand but Jaskier was too busy trying to pinpoint how many Reavers were in the woods. They made a distinct clicking sound, like a large beetle tapping their pinchers together.

“What is that?” Geralt asked slowly as he stood. Jaskier was about to answer when the Reavers attacked. There was four of them, their humanoid bodies were as black as shadows with long claws, fangs and a spiked tail that they used to knock their prey down so they could pounce. These Reavers had been smart, attacking down upon them from where they had been perched in the trees. Jaskier took one’s head off before rolling out of the way of another. Geralt was facing off another while the remaining two circled around Jaskier.

Click, click. Click, click.

The Reavers made their haunting noise as they circled around Jaskier, trying to find a point of weakness. Jaskier didn’t give them time to find it, Shadowstepping behind one of the Reavers and gutting it from behind before disappearing once more into the shadows. Geralt had taken care of his Reaver at this point and was charging the remaining creature. Sensing that it was outmatched the Reaver tried to run. Jaskier let it get a few paces out of the firelight before stepping out of the shadows and throwing one of his daggers with precision accuracy. It made a sickening noise as it sunk to the hilt into the Reaver’s head and the Reaver dropped to the ground, dead.

“What were those?” Geralt asked, his voice ragged and breathless. Neri, whom Jaskier had all but lost track of during the fight, stepped out from behind one of the nearby trees.

“Reavers, creatures of Chaos,” Jaskier replied, his own voice rough from exertion. He retrieved his dagger from the Reaver’s head and sat down beside the fire to clean the blades. They were no longer glowing which meant that there was no more Underdark creatures in the area. Geralt let out a grunt and inspected one of the bodies. Neri all but climbed into Jaskier’s lap, shaking from fear. This was most likely her first time seeing a creature from the Underdark. Already the bodies were starting to break down, nothing from the Underdark remained whole for long after death. The Chaos that created them was too unstable and once the creature had expired it no longer had a reason to keep the form together.

“You seem well versed in these creatures,” Geralt said suspiciously. Jaskier sighed

“I am old Witcher, I have seen far worse Underdark creatures than Reavers,” he said, his voice betraying how weary he was. Geralt grunted and moved back to his bedroll. Jaskier waited until the Witcher’s breathing had evened out before lowering his hood so that Neri could see his face. The young girl gasped softly and then pressed tightly into his chest. He slowly started to hum the tune of ‘Her Sweet Kiss’, letting the soothing rumble ease the girl into sleep. It was only a few hours until dawn and he knew he too should sleep but instead he found himself tracing the lines of Geralt’s face with his eyes. Committing each mark, each scar, to his memories for the hundredth time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The creatures that attack them are of my own creation but I think they fit in rather nicely.


	4. As he asked me to pray to the god he doesn't believe in

Geralt listen to Neri chatter to Vesper. She was sitting on Roach’s back with Geralt leading the horse and the other Drow walking along behind Geralt. They were speaking in a strange language that Geralt couldn’t understand with slurred vowels and clipped consonants. It almost seemed like Vesper was giving a lesson on something. He would say a few lines and Neri would think about what he had said before replying. Geralt didn’t care enough to tell them to be quiet, the noise reminded him of how his bard used to ramble while they were on the road.

“We’re about a hour from the town,” Geralt said cutting into whatever Neri was saying.

“Right. Time to put a glamour on Neri,” Vesper said seeming to have been caught off guard. There was a murmured spell in Elder and suddenly the girl on the horse had fair skin and blond hair. Vesper passed Geralt a slip of paper sealed with wax. Geralt had watched him write the note last night but hadn’t seen what was written on it. There was a seal pressed into the wax, a stylized dragon rearing back with it’s tail curled around beneath it.

“Give this to the man at the inn,” Vesper instructed. Geralt frowned

“I thought we were giving her to a family here?” he grunted. Vesper sighed.

“We are. There’re systems in place to protect our kind. Hoops to be jumped through,” the Drow said. Geralt’s frown grew and he moved to pass the paper back

“Give it to him yourself.” Vesper let out a low growl

“I _can’t_. I’m not supposed to be seen by anyone while I tail you. If it got back to the prince that I was spotted by others…” the Drow let the sentence trail off and Geralt huffed.

“Hm,” He grunted, tucking the note into his saddlebag. He turned to Neri who was watching them carefully.

“Does this mean we won’t see you again?” She asked softly and Vesper patted her on the knee.

“Don’t worry. Our lives are long, I’m sure we will cross paths again,” he assured her. Neri turned to Geralt, her lower lip wobbling and tears welling in her eyes

“I don’t wanna leave you,” she said to the Witcher. Geralt blinked. He hadn’t thought she would have gotten attached to him; she had always been joined at Vesper’s hip.

“I’ll visit,” he lied. He turned to tell Vesper they were close enough to the outskirts of town that people might see him but the Drow was already nothing more than a shadow at the edge of his vision.

“Hm.”

* * *

Geralt helped Neri down from Roach’s back and handed off the reins to the stable boy. The village wasn’t large but it was big enough for an inn and a blacksmith which sat right beside the inn.

“Don’t wander,” Geralt ordered to Neri who nodded and reached for his hand. Geralt almost pulled away but the girl was already looking like she was about to start crying so he allowed her to hold his hand as he led the way into the inn. It was the perfect lighting for his eyes but would probably be considered dim to anyone else. Neri pressed into Geralt’s leg when two men sitting at the table near the door cooed at her.

“Here girly,” one of them called and Geralt let out a low growl. He made his way over to the innkeeper who was watching from the bar. Geralt pulled the note out and set it down.

“I was told to give this to you,” he said lowly. The innkeeper narrowed his eyes but didn’t move to take it.

“Your kind isn’t wanted around here,” the man said moving away from them. Neri pushed herself onto a barstool and rattled something off in the strange language both she and Vesper had spoken before. The innkeeper sucked in a surprised breath and took the paper with a shaking hand. His eyes were wide, his heart was racing, and his skin had gone ashen. Whatever she had said to him had frightened him. He looked at the seal on the paper and swallowed visibly.

“Hurry up,” Geralt ordered impatiently. The innkeeper nodded quickly and broke the seal, reading whatever had been written carefully. He pulled out a bowl from under the bar and set the paper into it before lighting it afire with the snap of his fingers.

“I’m afraid I can’t help you or the girl. The family he’s looking for, the adults three months ago and I took in the three kids. I can’t afford to feed another mouth,” the innkeeper said. Geralt frowned.

“What do I do with her then?” he asked sharply. The innkeeper sighed

“I’ll give you and the girl a room for a few nights. We’re having issues with Drowners in the nearby river. Get rid of them and I’ll pay you. Perhaps the answer will come to you while you’re dealing with the problem,” the innkeeper said passing over a key. Geralt let out a growl and turned towards the stairs. He watched from the corner of his eyes as Neri took the key and followed. The room only had one bed but Geralt was used to sleeping on hard surfaces.

“I’ll have them draw us a bath,” he said setting his bags down on the floor by the hearth. Neri sat down on the bed and picked at a loose thread on her dress. It was painfully obvious that she had nothing else to wear and he sighed. Clothes were expensive, perhaps he would be able to afford some if he got a large contract but Drowners were only pests really, the contract wouldn’t be enough to pay for what the girl needed. Not to mention he had no clue how he was going to feed another mouth for however long he had her with him.

The shadow on his peripheral too form and solidified until Vesper was standing in the corner.

“The family you wanted, their gone,” Geralt said and Vesper sighed

“I heard. They’re not the first family to have been hit hard lately. Many of my people have been hit hard by the war,” Vesper said.

“What do we do with her,” Geralt asked and Vesper muttered something in that strange language. Neri was worrying her lip

“Well?” Geralt asked and Vesper huffed

“I don’t know, I was banking on this family taking her in. The truth is we don’t have enough of a population anymore to care for the children. More children are orphans than have parents,” Vesper said. Geralt frowned.

“Why is that? It can’t all be because of Nilfgaard,” Geralt asked and Vesper went very still.

“Witchers, Geralt. They tore through our kind like we were monsters. Slaughtered any of our kind they came across. It was before your time but it is the reason that us Drow don’t trust Witchers and why we are scattered across the north, hiding under illusions,” Vesper said in a soft voice, “the best thing that ever happened for my kind is the slaughter of your school. It made your kind all but forget us.” Geralt felt anger well up in him, his spine stiffened and his hands became fists. Neri let out a whimper and Geralt turned to her.

He must have been terrifying, the smell of his anger thick in the air, his silver sword still on his back, and the firelight most likely making his cat eyes glow. Neri shrunk back on the bed, making herself small and Vesper took a cautionary step between Geralt and the frightened girl. It was like a bucket of icy cold water had been dumped on him, the anger washed away and was replaced by a sick feeling. Neri, the girl who had sought comfort from him when they had arrived was afraid of him. His scent soured and Vesper seemed to relax as the tension in the room dissipated.

“I’m going to go get us dinner,” Geralt grumbled, heading for the door. When he returned with two bowls of stew and a loaf of bread he found Neri sleeping, her head pillowed in the lap of a unknown man. He had grey skin and curly black hair. Drow then, most likely Vesper.

“She’s tired. I’d let her sleep a bit before waking her,” Vesper said and Geralt nodded. The Drow took the bread and pulled a knife out of his boot to cut it with. Geralt set one bowl of stew aside for Neri when she woke and took the thick slice of bread that Vesper offered. They ate in awkward silence before someone knocked on the door. It opened before either of them could react and the woman standing there bustled in

“I’ve brought water for the bath you…” she trailed off when she saw Vesper who gave her a tight smile

“Please continue. I would like to bathe before dawn breaks,” Vesper quipped. Geralt snorted at the remark and the woman nodded quickly

“Of course!” she said waving two teenage girls into the room. They were each carrying buckets of steaming water and poured it into the tub that sat by the window.

“Is there anything we could get you sir?” the woman asked and Vesper waved her away. With a low bow like the one Geralt had seen used for royalty the woman and girls were gone. Geralt turned back to Vesper and raised an eyebrow. He wanted an explanation for the strange behavior but Vesper only grinned and took a bite of his bread.

“Go on and take your bath, I don’t particularly want Neri to see our bits before she turns a hundred so you’d best get clean before she wakes,” Vesper instructed.

“Hm,” Geralt grunted but he set his empty bowl aside and began to strip. He could feel Vesper watching him as he moved across the room and settled into the bath. He laid back dunked his hair and was about to scrub his hair clean of gunk when two hands came to rest on his shoulders. He jumped but it was just Vesper with a bottle of oil.

“Only figures you would stop using soap,” Vesper muttered. Geralt snorted but all thoughts of commenting fled his mind as Vesper expertly started to massage his head. He sunk back into the ministrations, letting the soft yet calloused fingers work through his hair and work out all the knots and clean each lock.

“Alright, tilt your head back,” Vesper ordered and for a moment he sounded just like Jaskier. It took Geralt by surprise and he slipped further into the water, his head submerging for a moment before he came up spluttering. Vesper snorted

“I will never understand you,” he muttered, his words barely audible.

“I can take care of the rest,” Geralt growled. A look of hurt flashed across Vesper’s face but he climbed to his feet and moved away from the tub.

“Hurry up then, I would like a bath as well,” the Drow said. Geralt scrubbed down and climbed out, taking the towel that Vesper offered. He watched as the Drow started to disarm, he was pulling daggers out of places Geralt had never thought to strap one and even a few throwing stars.

“Have enough weapons?” Geralt asked and Vesper snorted.

“No such thing,” he shot back. Vesper pulled off his shirt and a almost familiar scar caught Geralt’s attention. He traced it with a light touch causing Vesper to flinch away

“Where did you get that?” Geralt asked and Vesper reached back. The scar was beyond what he would have been able to reach, nestled almost squarely in the dip between Vesper’s shoulder blades.

“A woman, a mage, gave it to me. She was cruel and heartless and believed that if she ground my spine into a powder and ingested it she would be able to conceive a child. She was barren you see, gave it up for something stupid,” Vesper said, his voice taking a far away tone. Geralt frowned

“Hm,” he grunted and Vesper quickly finished stripping. He was a lithe thing, skinny to the point that he might be considered malnourished, with lean muscles flexing with each movement. Geralt watched riveted as Vesper crossed the room and slid into the tub. Something about the Omega bathing in water he had just vacated made the Alpha in Geralt purr in content. This Omega was his and it was only fitting that he smelt like Geralt.

The realization of what he had just though washed over Geralt and he shook his head to dislodge the idea that Vesper belonged to him. Geralt still loved Jaskier, it was too soon to replace him with some Omega he had just met. Geralt left the room, fully prepared to drown his woes in the bottom of a tankard.


	5. The storm comes (Or is it just another shower?)

When Geralt woke the next morning it was before dawn. He sat up and noticed that Vesper’s nest of blankets was empty. Neri was still sleeping on the bed, her mouth open and drool wetting the pillow. He stood and tucked the blanket tighter around her shoulders, gently brushing a lock of her hair out of her face. A flash of something washed over him, some emotion he had thought he had lost a long time ago.

Fondness maybe.

Vesper slipped through the door moment’s later.

“Bloody bastard,” the Drow muttered and Geralt raised an eyebrow.

“Hm?” he grunted and Vesper jumped. He must not have realized Geralt was awake.

“It’s nothing. Just the healer didn’t have some herbs that I need for my heat suppressor,” Vesper grumbled. Geralt raised an eyebrow at that tidbit. He hadn’t really thought about the Omega going into heat.

“How long?” he demanded and Vesper blinked

“Excuse me?” he asked confused. Geralt sighed and rolled his eyes.

“How long until you go into heat?” he demaned again. Vesper shifted,

“About a week and a half. I only need wentwood really, rosemary and hawthorn bark are just to cover the scent of my heat approaching so that Alphas don’t come after me,” Vesper said with a shrug. Geralt grunted, recognizing the mixture. Wentwood mixed with iris petals, and sage was a common heat suppressor, allowing the Omega to work through their heat with only mild discomfort. The mixture of rosemary and hawthorn bark was an odd thing though, Jaskier had used the same mixture to cover the scent of his heats approaching as well.

Something tickled at the back of Geralt’s mind, too many similarities between Vesper and his Jaskier. Still, Geralt didn’t have time to pick apart the threads that made them similar. It was most likely just coincidence anyway.

“Anyway, are we going after the drowners?” Vesper asked changing the subject.

“Hm, I’m going after the drowners. You’re staying with Neri,” he said and Vesper scoffed

“There’s no way I’m staying behind. You could get hurt and then you’d be out there alone,” the drow snapped. Geralt raised an eyebrow and a purplish blush crossed Vesper’s cheeks. The Drow adverted his eyes and grumbled

“It’s not like you’re ever careful when you’re fighting.”

“You’re about to go into heat, you’d attract more trouble than we could fight off,” Geralt said bluntly. Vesper huffed but didn’t answer.

“Try not to take too long,” he said as Geralt grabbed his silver sword and strapped it across his back. He patted Vesper on the shoulder

“Try not to get taken advantage of,” he said, a hint of concern in his voice. Vesper caught it and smiled

“They’d like to try,” he said with a predatory grin.

“Hm,” Geralt grunted before leaving the room.

* * *

Geralt became acutely aware that Vesper had disobeyed him when he caught a familiar scent of chamomile floating through the air. He stiffened, it was the exact same scent that Jaskier produced when he started to go into heat.

“Get out here,” Geralt demanded. Vesper slid out of the shadow of a nearby tree, a guilty look on his face. Slowly the pieces of the puzzle started to fit together. Vesper, Prince Jaskier, and his Jaskier. They were all the same person which meant Jaskier had faked his death.

“Jaskier,” he growled and the scent of heat grew stronger.

“I wanted to tell you,” Vesper, no Jaskier, said softly. Geralt snarled, drawing his silver sword and stalking towards the Drow. Jaskier didn’t move even when Geralt rested the sword on his neck and smoke hissed into the air.

“Talk,” he demanded and Jaskier did. He wove a tale of two siblings who were the only members of the royal family to survive coming to the surface of the world. How they fought to survive in a world that saw them as monsters. Spoke of how they had learned to hide among the humans, shedding identities when people started to get suspicious. He spoke of how every few decades the two children of the royal family were forced to leave their lives behind and combat fresh waves of creatures from the Underdark that tried to rise into the surface world. When Jaskier was done speaking Geralt was shaking. He wasn’t sure if it was grief or anger or a mixture of the two. He pulled his sword away from Jaskier’s neck and turned away

“Why follow me then? When you were done with your task, why start to haunt me?” Geralt asked. Jaskier was quiet for a moment and Geralt thought he had slipped away. When he turned to face where the Drow had been Jaskier was still standing there, a lost look on his face

“Because I understood you. Because…because you are the only one that I ever felt a real connection with other than my sister,” Jaskier said finally. Geralt frowned.

“I don’t understand,” he said slowly and Jaskier huffed

“I love you, you dolt. I’m not sure when it happened but I fucking fell in love with a Witcher. I could be killed by my people for that you know. I don’t care, I want to be with you. Only you,” Jaskier exclaimed. Geralt blinked once, then twice. Finally the words settled into his mind.

Jaskier loved him? He was a monster though.

But wasn’t Jaskier a monster too? A monster could love another monster, right?

“We should deal with the drowners before your heat hits fully,” Geralt said, pushing the complicated emotions aside. He would deal with them later. They started walking towards the river again, Jaskier coming to walk beside Geralt and hum a familiar tune.

Toss a Coin to Your Witcher.

“Who’s watching Neri?” Geralt asked and Jaskier grinned

“I left her in the excellent hands of Roach and Tick. Your naming skills need work by the way? Insects? Really?” Jaskier bemoaned. Geralt snorted

“Roach is named for the fish,” he grunted. A peal of laughter left Jaskier and Geralt felt a smile tug at his lips. They weren’t okay yet, Geralt was terrified that this was all just a dream, but Jaskier walking beside him felt…right. Like it was meant to be.


End file.
